


when will you give me back the sun?

by paleinthedark



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28587651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleinthedark/pseuds/paleinthedark
Summary: Tommy alone and cold, driven in desperation from his exile, crashes and burns in a forest full of snow. Death waits for him to settle.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 20
Kudos: 252





	when will you give me back the sun?

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically set in the time during after tommy runs away from his exile ! i completely ignored canon LMFAO

Tommy can feel himself dying. 

It hurts. His cough rattles wetly in his chest, scratching his throat raw with how hard he hacks up an illness that he knows will be the death of him. The snow is up to his ankles, pure white and glinting against the moon’s silvery glow. 

The barren trees that reach out over him with spindly fingers barely keep the snow from falling. Tommy sighs a cold, painful breath that sets his chest on fire. 

Tommy doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to die; he can feel that candle flicker in his chest, still lit after all this time with his will to live. It’s weaker, sure, but it’s still there. 

That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

(Tommy ignores the thoughts that linger in the back of his mind that whisper things to him. Things that make him want to give in, things that make him believe that maybe all of this wasn’t worth how much he earned.)

Tommy’s eyes slip closed. 

Images of his family slip by like salmon down a glistening river. He sees Phil with a beaming smile on his face as he races through the air with the wings on his back, sees Wilbur playing his guitar with a smile that speaks a thousand words better left unsaid, he sees Techno spinning through battle like it’s a dance. He sees the people he loves, the peoples he cares about, the people who betrayed him. 

He sees them all, and he can’t believe that he still loves them after all they’ve done to him. 

They’ve hurt him. 

They’ve hurt him so much. 

(He’s hurt them too, hasn’t he?)

But all Tommy can see is them. Simply them, before the whole world turned on him. Before the universe pit his dad and his brothers against him in a fight bloody and coarse with hurt. 

A memory, small like the bud of a flower, begins to blossom. Each delicate petal holds a memory innocent as love. Tommy, aching, waters this blossom and lets it consume him.

* * *

_”Tommy!”_

_Tommy looks up from the water that he stands in. It’s cool and it laps at his calves. Wilbur splashes over to him, kicking his legs dramatically as to splash water all over Tommy as he gets closer._

_“Wilbur!” Tommy screeches, absolutely livid as cold water slaps him in the face and runs down the sensitive skin of his neck to soak his perfectly clean shirt. “You bitch! Why did you do that?!”_

_Wilbur laughs in that special way of his, folded half over and sounding like a hyena. Tommy retaliates with a kick of his foot, splashing Wilbur’s open mouth. Surprised, Wilbur chokes on the river water._

_“Tommy!” Wilbur yells at his younger brother who is bent over, laughing so hard it sounds painful. With a mighty windup of his legs, Wilbur lets the kick loose, laughing as a shower of water douses Tommy. It completely soaks him._

_Through the haze of laughter and cursing, muffled by splashing that rivals a thunderstorm’s noise, Tommy tries to tackle Wilbur. He gets a hand hooked on his shirt, gripping tightly, Tommy uses all of his body weight to pull Wilbur into the river._

_The water engulfs him whole, minnows bumping against his skin as they scurry to get out of the way. Wilbur lands to the side of him with his limbs windmilling desperately, looking for something to grab onto to save him. To no avail, Wilbur hits the water’s surface with a slap._

_The river, too, swallows Wilbur whole._

_The two brothers break the surface of the water with deep gasps, coughing up water and pawing droplets that stick to lashes out of their eyes. The water bobs against their chests and pebbles dig into their behinds._

_“What the fuck Tommy!” Wilbur snaps, already cupping his hands and clasping them quickly to shoot water at Tommy. The stream of water is weak and gives up about two inches out. Tommy, offended at Wilbur’s scandalous tone, retaliates with a splash of water to his face._

_“You’re the one who started it,” Tommy growls, splashing his arms through the water wildly just to piss Wilbur off, “you dickhead.”_

_“You’re the dickhead, dickhead,” Wilbur gasps, turning his face away from a particularly well aimed splash of water._

_“I didn’t!”_

_“Did too!”_

_“I_ didn– _OW!” Tommy squeals, jumping a foot out of the water with a hand clutched to his leg. Wilbur laughs and points at Tommy as the blonde boy rips a crawdad off of his bare leg, a cut from it’s pinchers already running red._

_“It’s not funny Wilbur,” Tommy whines, throwing the crawdad into the water and limping off to the shore to look at his wound. “That hurt! A lot!”_

_“I bet it did.” Wilbur chortles from behind him, already following his brother to make sure he’s okay._

_Tommy sits heavily on the shore. The mud sinks into the gaps between his toes and grips his legs. He looks at his thigh, poking at the bruising around the cut tenderly. It stings._

_“Wilbuuuuur,” Tommy whines, looking up at his brother with a painful grimace. The frown on his face doesn’t suit him, Wilbur thinks._

_“Lemme see,” Wilbur smiles, plopping down on the bank next to Tommy. He inspects the gash a little. “Don’t worry, you just need a bandaid, pussy boy.”_

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_Wilbur grins at his brother. He stands up, wringing out his shirt a little before grabbing Tommy’s outstretched hand and hauling him to his feet. Wilbur grips Tommy’s wrists, dragging him up the river to a cobblestone path riddled with weeds to their home._

_“What color was the crawdad?”_

_Tommy is silent. He limps behind Wilbur, watching the ground so he doesn’t step on any sharp rocks and impale his foot or something_

_“Blue.”_

_“Blue?”_

_“That’s what I said, idiot.”_

_“Blue’s a nice color.”_

_“...Red’s better.”_

* * *

The tears on Tommy’s cheeks have already crystallized. The cold has tightened it’s leash on his throat, making it harder to breathe as his lungs begin to deteriorate away against the harsh, cruel treatment of the winter weather.

* * *

_It’s snowing. The dark sky is polluted with the nearby village’s light, but the stars still shine through the gloom. Navy blue blankets the sky, grey clouds felted into it as snow spirals from the clouds._

_Tommy hangs halfway out the window, elbows aching by holding most of his weight. He has his face turned up to the sky, his tongue stuck out to catch snowflakes. They melt as quickly as they land._

_“You’ll get sick from that.” A voice comes from behind him. Startling, Tommy knocks one of his elbows painfully on the windowsill as he turns around to look at Techno, standing in the middle of the living room with his robe cast over his shoulders. His long hair is thrown over his shoulder in a messy braid._

_“I get sick from just looking at you,” Tommy says to his brother before turning back to stick his head out the window. The cold nips at his ears and makes his nose runny._

_“Now that’s just mean,” He hears Techno mutter, “and here I was trying to be caring.”_

_Tommy hides his smile in the night._

_From the corner of his eye, Tommy spots the sad excuse of his snowman that he tried to build earlier that day stare up at him with one coal eye. The other is missing._

_“Hey Techno,” Tommy says, already up on his feet and pulling a boot on. “Come help me build a snowman!”_

_“What? Why would I do that?”_

_Tommy hops around as he tries to get on his other boot, looking up at Techno with bright eyes. “Because you adore me.”_

_Techno rolls his eyes. “Fat chance, nerd.”_

_“Ugh, you're impossible. just build a snowman with me you motherfucker! I’ll tell Phil you’re being mean!”_

_“That wouldn’t work.” Techno says with an earned confidence. “I’m the favorite child.”_

_“You are not. I am. Have you met me?” Tommy scoffs, pulling on his coat over his gloved hands. He shoves a woolen hat onto his head._

_“Unfortunately.”_

_Tommy makes a face at his older brother. He turns to the front door and opens it, stepping out into the snow. He smiles as the cold bites his nose. With a whoop, he jumps off the porch and into the snowbank, shrieking when some snow falls into the collar of his coat to chill his neck._

_From the corner of his eye, Tommy watches Techno close the window he left open. He disappears from sight shortly after. Tommy tries to not let the disappointment get to him._

_The snow falls apart in his hands. It’s far too cold for it to pack anywhere near well. It sifts through the gaps in his fingers to collect on the snow beneath Tommy. The boy sighs, a puff of white air escaping his already chapping lips._

_He tries to make a snowman, anyway, no matter how fine the snow is. He gathers it in big armfuls, shoving them into piles. Again, he tries to pack them into balls. They fall apart as soon as Tommy takes his hands away._

_“Ugh,” Tommy grunts. By the end of his adventure, he only has a big mound of sound sitting before him. The cold from the snow seeps through his jeans to bite at his legs. The front door creaks open behind him; expecting Wilbur and possibly Phil, Tommy turns around with his mouth already open, ready to complain._

_It falls shut with a clack when he’s greeted with Technoblade instead. He stands on the porch awkwardly, like he’s too big for his own skin. The snow catches in his pink hair and it looks like he’s covered in glitter. Tommy grins._

_“Big T!” Tommy yells, up on his feet with a fistfull of snow in his hand. He shoves it in his other and makes a motion like he’s packing it, even though most of the snow falls out of his palms. He chucks the snow at Techno anyways, and the snow is a gentle sprinkle that barely makes it four feet out._

_“Impressive.” Techno drones._

_“Oh, I’ll show you impressive, Blade,” Tommy laughs, excited at the aspect that Techno came out here on his own to possibly play with him in the snow. He runs forward and stops in front of the porch steps where Techno stands. Tommy stoops down, the redness of his cheeks stark against his pale skin as he gathers as much snow as he can in his arms._

_He stands up and about half of it slips right off. Undeterred, Tommy rocks his arms to the side of his body, gearing up, and then throws as much as he can onto Techno. The snow hits him gently, covering his clothes in it._

_Tommy stands back and waits with a grin on his face. He watches Techno’s expression giggling to himself at the fact that he got the snow actually on his face. Must sting, Tommy thinks, knowing all too well the feeling of freezing snow melting rapidly on his warm face. It hurts like a bitch._

_The snow on Techno’s face melts and the glistening sheen on his cheeks makes it look like he’s been crying. Tommy gasps out a laugh, full of heart as he screams at the top of his lungs that Techno is bawling his eyes out like a baby._

_“You’re a moron.” Techno says. He steps down the porch steps, watching Tommy through the glasses that sit perched on his nose. They fog up with his warm breath. Tommy can only grin wider._

_“Whaddya gonna do? Cry at me, bitch?” Tommy crows, jumping on his heels, hopping from side to side in the deep snow. Techno scowls._

_“No, I’ll do something much worse.”_

_“Oh,” Tommy says with not at all false bravo, throwing his head back in mock fear, “I’m so scared.”_

_Techno is on him before he can even react. He scoops him up in his arms, hands gripping him tightly to not drop him as he struggles, screaming his head off and thrashing like he’s dying. “Put me down! Put me down!”_

_“No!” Techno laughs, his tusks pulling at his lips as he grins. His feet drag through the snow as he walks over to the failed attempt of a snowman, shifting his grip on a struggling Tommy as he gets closer. The piglin-hybrid has him dangling in the air by his ankles. His arms tremble with the force of carrying the teenager._

_“Oh my god! You’re gonna drop me and break my neck!” Tommy screams, voice hoarse from overuse._

_Techno laughs, “That’s the plan!” And then, he lets go._

_Tommy hits the mound of snow he made like a falling comet. The darkness that encompasses him makes him panic a little, not as much as the fact that he literally can’t move panics him, so he flails his legs wildly and aims to kick Techno in the dick for being one._

_He hears Techno’s muffled laughter through the snow. “Fuck you!” Tommy yells, gagging when snow falls into his mouth._

_He feels fingers wrap around his ankles again. Techno pulls him out of the snowbank, still laughing, and he sets Tommy on the ground gently. Pissed and cold, Tommy grabs Techno’s robe and pulls on it so harshly it sends Techno to the ground. He doesn’t seem to mind, he just keeps laughing._

_“Stop laughing!” Tommy yells, throwing snow onto his heaving chest._

_His brother only laughs harder,_

_The muscles in his face twitch. Tommy tries to stop it, he does, but his big brother's laugh is infectious. Not too long after, Tommy is laughing, too._

* * *

Tommy’s chest aches in a way that isn’t because of the cold. He feels his heart tear and rip, he feels it bleed and spill over his organs, dumping desperate emotions darker than ink that sizzle like acid, bringing pain forth to seemingly everywhere. It hurts. 

It hurts.

* * *

_”Hello.” The wind whispers._

_Tommy, small and scared and alone, only seven years old, looks up from his hands. His face is wet with tears and snot._

_His shirt is soaked in blood._

_The wind is a man with wings. He has blonde hair and blue eyes like Tommy. Tommy doesn’t say anything to the wind; he doesn’t think he could if he tried._

_“What‘s your name?”_

_Tommy swallows, and his throat clicks._

_The wind in the form of a man waits for an answer he will not get. When it’s obvious that Tommy won’t speak, the man sits down next to Tommy, mindful of his wings and personal space._

_Tommy doesn’t move away or any closer._

_“My name is Phil,” the man says, and the wind carries his name preciously._

_Tommy looks up from the ground to look at Phil. He studies the fullness of his face, the scruff of a beard on his chin, the scars on his arms and hands. He has downturned eyes that glow like embers and a smile that looks as soft as the feathers on his wings._

_The wind, summer blessed, ruffles Tommy’s hair._

_“I’m.. Tommy.”_

_The grin that Tommy gets in turn is blinding. It leaves him starstruck, if he’s being honest._

_“Do you like the stars, Tommy?” Phil asks._

_Tommy looks up at the sky. It’s full of stars, clustered like bouquets and even more beautiful._

_Tommy nods. The stars are pretty._

_Phil’s smile never leaves his face. “Do you know the story of Cygnus?” He points to a constellation in the sky, half covered by a tree’s wandering branches._

_Tommy shakes his head. Phil begins to speak, and the boy settles as he listens to the story of two competitive friends and their loyal love to one another._

_Halfway through the legend, Tommy is nodding off. Phil keeps talking. Tommy, half conscious, feels the weight of a cloak being wrapped around his small shoulders. He doesn’t move._

_He lets Phil pick him up._

_Wings, great and powerful, wrap around him like a cradle. The soothing voice in his ear never stops talking, and the beating of a heart against his brings hopeful tears to his eyes._

_That night, surrounded by tragedy, Tommy found home in the form of a man who sounded like the wind, and who ruled the skies with mighty wings on his back._

_He was brought to a warm cabin with two twins inside. They grew to love Tommy, and Tommy grew to love them. It was natural._

_Once, Phil had told him what soulmates were. He called the four of them that; born into this world meant to love one another._

_They were each other’s person. Tommy never forgot that._

* * *

Wilbur died in a blaze of his own, twisted, corrupted glory at the hand of their father. 

Techno killed his best friend and left Tommy to fend for himself. 

Phil ignored him and ran away with Techno, the favorite child, after killing his middle child, born two minutes late, who only wanted recognition.

* * *

It’s always night.

The stars are always there. 

It’s always night, when something with impact happens to Tommy. Something of importance. 

Tommy knows that tonight, it will be his final night seeing the stars, seeing Cygnus and remembering. The snow in his hair and the frost on his skin reminds him of Techno and his love for winter. Tommy closes his eyes, lashes frozen, and wishes he could hate it. 

He’s dying in the winter, and instead of hating every single moment of it, he welcomes it. 

Not too far from him, a stream trickles under the frozen layer above it. Tommy hears the water run and hears the ice crackle. 

He imagines Wilbur, surrounded by clear, blue water. Imagines his smile and his voice, belting out a song made up on the spot. In his mind's eye, he watches Wilbur dance and spin, laughing and yelling to the sky. 

That spark of fondness is back. Tommy doesn’t know if he should hate it. It makes him cry anyways. 

The numbness is starting to hurt, Tommy notices. Fatigue drags on him, pulling his hand and tugging on his shirt. He closes his stinging eyes. 

He wants Phil to hug the hurt away. 

A few stray tears slip from his waterline to freeze on his sunken cheeks. He knows he won’t be getting a hug from Phil ever again. 

His heart breaks further. 

Swirling, freezing air draws out from his lungs in short, quick bursts. They only start to turn deep and long when his lungs become too full of sickness and begin to push on his heart, suffocating it until it slows. 

_Thump._

_Thump thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

_…_

* * *

Tommy, sixteen, exiled by his best friend and betrayed by his family, dies at 3:05 AM on a cold, freezing, sunday morning. 

No one comes looking for him. 

_“Dead,”_ Tubbo says to himself in the solitude of his office in a soundless, terrifying realization. His compass’ glass has cracked. The needle in the center has stopped pointing towards its one, true north. It spins, lost, now. 

Two brothers, one alive and one gone (but not parted with this world), and a failure of a father think: _alive._

Winter flowers sprout between Tommy’s cold fingers. 

Nature eats away at him. 

_Sorry_ , she whispers. 

And the universe mourns, for it has lost another soul tainted by a world too cruel.

**Author's Note:**

> looks away


End file.
